Excerpt from The Vanoran Affair (WIP)

In this excerpt, Commander Jholtan, who first appeared in The Antaren Affair is being briefed on his mission by Meraya, who got her own HEA in TAA. Jholtan is returning to the planet Antares as the guest of honor in an Antaren religious festival.

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“Of course,” said Meraya, “you won’t be expected to perform as many of the variants of hitan as an Antaren would. In fact, I think that just the three principle forms would be sufficient.”

“Wait a second.” Jholtan sat up. “I think I missed something. Go back.”

“You’re the guest of honor.”

“Right, got that. What did you say after that?”

“You will be expected to participate.”

“Make the first toast. Dance the first dance. That sort of thing. I suppose I should practice my pronunciation, but I can do that aboard the Yakutsk—”

Meraya waited until Jholtan’s voice trailed off. “I’m not sure you understand,” she said, her gaze fixed to the floor. It was an old kebara habit, that subservient downward gaze. Meraya only did it when she was very uncomfortable.

“Understand what?”

“There will be dancing, but you will just watch that part. You will be expected to participate in the hitan performance.”

Jholtan stilled. “I beg your pardon?” All the coffee he drank this morning felt like it was burning a hole in his gut.

Please let this not be what he thought it was.

Meraya gave him an apologetic look. “I am sorry, Jholt. I know it is not your custom. But perhaps you will enjoy it. The kebareet are very talented and will pleasure you in whatever ways you wish.”

Jholtan blinked and attempted to process what Meraya was saying.

The door to the admiral’s quarters slid open and Avar himself entered.

Vazar Colonel Avar now, Jholtan reminded himself. He stood to greet the man who had been his commanding officer for twelve years. Avar’s jet-black hair had silvered at the temples but he remained as intimidating as ever.

The man had killed more than once with his bare hands and he suffered neither fools nor incompetence. Yet he could also be the most tender and considerate of men.

With one person.

Avar put his hands gently on Meraya’s shoulders and leaned over her, pressing a kiss to her throat. She put up a hand and stroked his jaw.

Jholtan looked away. Avar and Meraya shared an intimacy that made him feel self-conscious, as though his presence was an invasion of privacy. Their bond was unique in his experience—they communicated as much by gesture and expression as through speech.

Avar pulled away from his wife, his keen eyes searching Jholtan’s face. “Has she told you yet?”

When Jholtan returned a blank look, Avar turned to Meraya. “Have you told him?”

“No,” she said, her voice softening now that Avar was here. “Not all of it.”

Avar ran a thumb along the spiral scars that marked Meraya’s arms. She flushed a warm pink. The colonel lifted his eyes to Jholtan’s. “Waiting’s not going to make it any easier.”

Meraya sighed, squeezed Avar’s fingers and then settled her hands in her lap. Avar took off his jacket and seated himself next to Meraya.

Glancing at Meraya’s concerned face, Jhōltan was reminded of the matter at hand. He closed his eyes and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Uh, just to make sure I’m clear. Isn’t hitan—”

“Sexual relations,” said Meraya, back in briefing mode. “Yes. And you should be ready to perform the first three.”

Perform? Perform sex?

Jholtan felt a sense of unreality descend. Maybe if he concentrated hard enough, Meraya would go away and he wouldn’t have to hear any more about some bloody Antaren sex festival.

“What, exactly, do you mean by ‘perform’?” he asked carefully.

“Ah. Very simple. The most skilled kebareet and durleet will perform hitan. It is choreographed, and you will just be expected to watch and enjoy. The final part of the performance will involve you.”

Jholtan’s already white face blanched.

No. Surely not.

“When you say perform—”

“The Great Hitan is like performance art,” said Meraya. “You will be expected to improvise, respond to the actions of others and initiate your own acts of pleasure.”

“Great,” said Jholtan, scowling. “I get to improvise.”

How the hell had he gotten this assignment? He wasn’t a diplomat. He was an engineer.

And he was not the best man for this. In fact, he could think of at least three men who were better qualified.

Well, maybe not qualified, exactly. After all, what really qualified you to perform an alien group-sex ritual?

Meraya leaned forward. “It is not as bad as you think, Jholt. Perhaps you will discover that durleet give you the most pleasure.”

Jholtan felt his jaw drop. He couldn’t speak. He knew Sarkadia was sexually conservative—he was sexually conservative, he supposed—but surely Meraya was joking.

He cleared his throat. Twice. “Let me make sure I understand. Are you saying that—that there will be men involved?”

Meraya blinked. “Of course.”

Avar’s lips twitched.

“And I will be expected to—”

“Perform hitan with them. Yes.”

Jholtan squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temple. “And this is to occur in public?”

“Certainly in public. That is the entire point.”

Of course it was.

“Andor.” Meraya was using his first name, so this must be serious. Jholtan forced himself to open his eyes.

“The mir will be insulted if you refuse this honor,” she said. “And you must understand—you will be representing the empire. You cannot refuse to perform hitan with men.”

Meraya shook her head. “I cannot imagine what the mir would think of such a thing. It would be not good.”

Jholtan searched for something to say, but found himself at a loss for words.

All he could think of was that his c**k would be representing the Sarkadian Empire.

Gods help him.

WIPs

I know I've been dreadful lately about keeping my blog updated, but I've been hard at work on a new science fiction ER. I've made a lot of progress on the sequel to The Antaren Affair, which is Lt (now Commander) Jholtan's story. However, I got shanghaied on the way by the captain of the ship transporting Jholtan back to the planet Antares and so I had to start working on his story.

And then, in the middle of all this, someone crash-landed on Heiden and needed immediate assistance. To make a long story short, I now have Jholtan's story underway, as well as two others. For the last two weeks, I've been skipping between them--it just depends on who (whom?) I wake up with that morning.

Today it happens to be Toren-Sha, who got shot out of the sky on Heiden. He is rescued by an ex-combat medic named Cosima. Together they have to escape the nasty folks who want Toren dead. This is complicated by the fact that the two of them stumble into the middle of an epidemic. Toren has to decide whether to save himself or stay with Cosima, who refuses to leave her patients.

Oh, the drama!

Decisions, decisions...

This morning I settled down in front of my computer and tried to decide what to work on. I try to spend the morning doing email and "fun" writing (i.e., romance) and then spend the afternoon doing "real work," research and writing in my academic discipline.

Since I have several erotic romance stories in progress at any one time, I tend to work on whatever is uppermost in my mind. Usually either a scene or a character will be pestering me to be written. I find this modus operandi keeps me interested in writing and prevents me from getting bored or burned out. This morning was sort of a blank, though, and I actually considered...vacuuming.

This disaster-in-the-making was averted when I checked my email and had the loveliest message from Terrie in Texas. She had just finished reading The Antaren Affair and took the time to tell me how much she enjoyed it. And she asked for Jholtan's story--Jholt is a secondary character in the novel and I've been trying to decide whether to find him a hot, sexy alien woman of his own. Terrie's exact words were "It is unthinkable that you would not continue with Jholtan's story. Please don't be so cruel." LOL!

Needless to say, Terrie solved my what-should-I-work-on-next dilemma. I think poor Jholt is going to have to crash-land somewhere. With a Vanoran woman. Perhaps her clothes will be torn off in the resulting explosion, but she miraculously remains unharmed. She and Jholt will have to team up to survive. Naked. No, not naked. Maybe partially clothed. Yeah, partially clothed . . .

Medieval Inspiration

I've been working madly on my short novel set in medieval England and I happened to, uh, visit the fan site for actor Richard Armitage--a slip of the mouse, I swear! Armitage starred in one of my favorite period dramas, North and South (no, not the John Jakes one), based on a novel by Elizabeth Gaskell.

Anyway, the fan site also featured Armitage in his role of Guy of Gisbourne from Robin Hood and I happened to find a wallpaper by IslaJane that looks exactly as I imagined Stephen de Langlois, the hero of my medieval WIP, The Captured Bride. Anyway, thought I'd share a bit of, er, inspiration.

Release date for The Antaren Affair

Yay! Just heard from my editor that the release date for The Antaren Affair will be July 7th. Very exciting! I still don't have a cover to post, but I'll slap it up on the blog as soon as it comes in. For now, I can offer a blurb. Excerpt coming soon.

Colonel Rákōsy Avar is an officer in the Imperial Forces sent to the planet Antares to negotiate an alliance. He’s learned the hard way to trust no one and has only one passion: duty. But when an Antaren kebara is sent to serve him in any way that he desires, she proves too great a temptation for the battle-scarred warrior. Although he suspects a trap, he still wants her in his bed. On her back.

Meraya is a woman trained to provide sexual pleasure. A woman whose duty is to serve. She has never known freedom. Or desire. But discovers both in the arms of the barbarian colonel. But Meraya is a pawn in a deadly game of interstellar politics that could cost her everything…including her heart.

When Avar discovers he wants more than what’s between Meraya’s lovely thighs, he must play for the highest stakes ever, gambling with the life of a woman he can’t resist. A woman whose betrayal would destroy him.

Medieval Romance

I'm waiting to hear about the release date for my science fiction romance The Antaren Affair so, as is my habit, I'm working on something about as far removed from my last project as possible. It's a medieval (erotic) romance set in 13th-century England tentatively titled The Captured Bride. I've already blogged about the, er, scene involving transparent clothing and a horse trough, which was great fun to write. I'm inordinately proud of it, so thought I would post the excerpt here.

Without warning, a shadow fell across the entrance to the passage, an arm’s length from where she stood against the wall. Her eyes widened. It was the knight. Langlois. He strode to the wooden trough used to water the horses. Grasping it by the sides, he leaned forward and dunked his head.

Alais swallowed. The linen pulled against lean, tight buttocks as he bent over the trough. Her eyes followed the line of his thigh, the smooth curve of his waist, then up, along the burnished arc of his back. Straightening, he shook his wet hair out of his face.

He had lost the leather tie that held his hair back. It was more than a way to secure his hair, she thought. It civilized him. Now, nearly naked, his hair spread over his neck and shoulders like the mane of some wild animal, the power in him that she had sensed earlier was magnified ten-fold. And it had a dangerous, untamed edge.

He rolled his shoulders and the muscles rippled as he flexed. Alais’s fingers scrabbled against the wall of the stable for support.

Langlois reached for a bucket, filled it and emptied it over his head. The water streamed in rivulets down his body—down the hard, corded muscle of his chest. Down the sensuous curve of his spine. He gave a sigh of pleasure and Alais caught her breath.

He ran his hands through his dark hair. Droplets of water flew in all directions.

“Like what you see, my lady?”

Alais froze. She darted a glance at the courtyard. No one was close enough to hear him.

Except her.

She squeezed her eyes shut and flattened herself against the wall of the stable. Perhaps if she didn’t acknowledge him, he would go away. Either that or she would miraculously become invisible.

She heard him laugh, as though he knew what she was thinking. “I know you’re there. The queen’s ladies don’t venture down to the stables often. Don’t you have somewhere to be? Perhaps some mending to do?”

Annoyed, Alais opened her eyes and drew herself up. “I detest mending.”

Langlois gave a deep laugh that caused an odd thrumming sensation low in her belly.

“Fair enough.”

He still hadn’t turned around. He stood, hands on hips and head bent as water dripped from his body. The sun, now rising over the castle walls, gilded his skin. Alais wondered whether he knew what a glorious sight he was. Probably.

Langlois turned and Alais’s eyes dropped instantly to his hips. He had managed to soak his braies at the trough. The linen was plastered to his body, outlining muscular thighs and the thick ridge of his c**k.

Her lips parted and she sucked in a breath. Her eyes, in defiance of her will, remained fixed upon the impressive bulge.

“You’re a bold one,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall of the adjacent outbuilding.

His words broke her strange paralysis. She lifted indignant eyes to his face.

“I most certainly am not.”

“Do you always stare like that?”

Alais felt her cheeks burn. Holy Mother, but the prioress would be horrified if she knew what Alais was thinking.

“I am merely curious,” she said, keeping her voice steady and trying for just a touch of insolence.

“Oh?” He had that amused look on his face again.

Alais’s trepidation disappeared and her irritation returned. She hadn’t spent all of her life in the convent, for heaven’s sake. She knew that men prized…size. Just last week she had ignored two whispering chambermaids who were comparing the attributes of a young squire.

“I was wondering about the reach of your…” Alais paused, as though searching for the right word. “Sword.” She hadn’t realized how dark and expressive his eyes were.

Langlois’s face went blank for a split second before he grinned. “And how do you find my…sword?”

Alais’s temper flared. He was mocking her.

One side of his mouth curved in a wicked smile. His nose had been broken, she realized. It should have lessened his attractiveness. It didn’t. Nor did she find the stubble darkening his jaw objectionable.

What was wrong with her?

“Your reach may be fine,” she replied sharply. “I cannot judge. But your sword is…lacking.”

New Science Fiction Erotic Romance

I'm very excited to announce that my publisher has accepted the manuscript for my next book, which is a science fiction erotic romance called The Antaren Affair. I'm completing edits this week and crossing my fingers that this one will be published as quickly as my last one.

I blogged a bit about the plot last month. In a nutshell: the setting is the planet Antares, where negotiations are underway between the Antarens and the Sarkadian Empire for access to some critical areas of interstellar space.

Our hero, Colonel Avar Rakosy, is an imperial negotiator and linguist with a military background. The planet Antares is male-dominated, but the colonel gets a surprise when he arrives in his quarters to find that the Antarens have sent him a woman as a "gift" to "serve" him during his stay.

Meraya is a kebara, a member of a class of subservient females in Antaren society. Avar finds himself enchanted by her and, against his better judgment, he, er, advances relations between the species. I'll post the official blurb as soon as it's approved. I'm hoping that the cover will come in this week.

The other project I'm working on is set in medieval England--knights and ladies! The hero is Stephen de Langlois, a landless knight who falls in love with a wealthy heiress, Alais of Pembroke. Unfortunately, Alais is promised to the king's half-brother. I had great fun writing the opening scene, in which Alais stumbles upon Stephen sparring, shirtless, with another knight. It being a hot day, he then decides to dunk himself in a horse trough. Which means that he's soaking wet. And all he's wearing is a pair of worn linen braies.

Alais gets an eyeful, to say the least.

Writing Erotic Science Fiction

So yesterday I submitted my first erotic science fiction novel to my wonderful editor, Grace. Since my first short novel was set in the 19th century, science fiction is quite a departure for me. I've been reading it for as long as I can remember, though, and my favorite books are always those that combine science fiction and romance.

Lois McMaster Bujold is an author of space opera who always injects some romance into her stories. I've read her entire Miles Vorkosigan series and love it. Start with Cordelia's Honor if you aren't already a fan. I also like Orson Scott Card and David Weber's Honor Harrington series. All of these authors also create strong female protagonists.

I've tried to write the sort of science fiction that I like to read, so my story features a military hero (gruff, battle-scarred, and devoted to duty) and a heroine who comes from a world where women are no better than chattel. There's a feminist subtext here as well, which I hope readers will recognize and enjoy.

My favorite part of writing SF is the chance to "world build"--create another species or world with its own rituals, language, and social organization. This is where my background in anthropology comes in handy. The novel I've just submitted revolves around language and the idea that language structures thought. In the Antaren language spoken by the heroine, it's impossible to think of herself as a subject. In other words, there is no first-person I or me or my, so the heroine is incapable of putting herself first, asking for what she wants, or asserting authority.

The hero, Avar Rákōsy, is a linguist and he literally gives the heroine the language to express herself. I hope readers will enjoy the exploration of language and self that I've tried to work into the story.

My editor has promised a four-week turnaround on the manuscript, so I'll be counting the days until I hear from her. In publishing time, that's the blink of an eye. But right now, it seems like light years away.

Release Date

I just heard from my editor that the release date for Not Quite a Lady will be April 14th. That means the project went from submission to publication in 3 months, which is almost unheard of. I'm a bit stunned. I figured I'd have more time to work on getting this blog up and running and, I suppose, more time to rest on my laurels. Instead, it's on to another project!

So, this is what I'm working on right now--draft title is Love and Deception. Setting: Regency London during the Napoleonic wars when French emigrés crowded the capital. Our heroine, Lady Elizabeth Christie, is a witty society darling, widowed, and a bit on the plump side. She's been working with our hero, Sir Andrew Talbot, to monitor gossip and news from France through her network of ton connections. So far, her involvement has been limited, but the murder of a London agent raises the stakes, and Sir Andrew must ask her to get close to one of the "persons of interest" to the Home Office.

Sir Andrew knows that he's putting Lady Christie into a risky position, but she's more than willing to do her part for king and country. Plus, she's fallen in love with the cool, diffident Sir Andrew.

More on the plot later!